Just for Now, Just for Tonight
by J0
Summary: ***Now finished.*** Spoiler for Deadly Mirage. Cheryl comforts a hurting Steve. GRAPHIC SEX.
1. A Man Like Steve Sloan

Disclaimer: All of the characters herein belong to CBS/Viacom and the creators of Diagnosis Murder, but the plot is all mine. This story is a work of fanfiction and has been written for fun and not for profit. I am receiving no money for this story, but kind reviews and constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated and gladly accepted. Flames will be summarily ignored.  
  
  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"I haven't broken any laws. The plan didn't work."  
  
Steve and Abby were again walking through the Japanese gardens, this time discussing her plan to fraudulently inherit Lily and Fredrick Wilson's estates by impersonating Lily's twin sister. She had already admitted to planting false adoption records for Steve to find. She'd seen Steve on that matchmaking game show and had used her strong resemblance to Lily Wilson to capture his heart and get him to look up her phony records. Then she had tried to frame Frederick Wilson for Lou Tyler's murder so that he would get the death penalty and she would get all his money.  
  
"But the one in Boston did," he said, sadly, waving over a couple of uniformed officers.  
  
She pulled his face to hers, bumping foreheads, and forcing him to look her in the eye.  
  
"I know you love me," she pleaded, and kissed him passionately.  
  
Steve savored the kiss, desperately holding on to the last possible moment before he knew if he clung to it any longer he would never be able to let go. Then he gently disengaged himself, and said, "I'm still a cop, Abby."  
  
The uniforms came over then, and led her away. She would be sent back to Boston soon, where she would stand trial for fraud. He watched the retreating figures, wishing he could run after her, wishing that he didn't always see the world in black and white, good and bad. Maybe if he could live with some shades of gray, he could have lived with what she had done.  
  
But a man like Steve Sloan couldn't live with that.  
  
Cheryl came up to him then and offered him a soda, not breaking the desolate mood, but denting it slightly with a warm, supportive smile. Steve smiled weakly back. She was a good friend. As they headed back to the car, Cheryl slipped her arm around him and gave him a small comforting squeeze about the waist.  
  
"I'll drive," she said.  
  
"Ok. Thanks."  
  
  
  
  
  
They had ridden back to the station in silence, Cheryl having the courtesy to leave him alone with his thoughts, and now, Steve found himself at his desk, struggling to fill out his daily report. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and sat staring at the form in frustration. Just how the devil did one manage to separate one's emotions from the events of the day and write an objective report? Sighing, he promised himself for the fourth, or was it the fifth, time that he would never, *ever*, get personally involved in a case again. He quickly scratched out a synopsis of what he had done today, signed the form, pressing hard to make sure his signature transferred through all the copies and tossed his pen to the desktop in front of him.  
  
Looking at the clock, he realized his shift would be over in ten minutes, and he would again be facing his evenings alone. Well, he wouldn't be alone, exactly, but certainly, without the kind of companionship he found he craved more and more as the years went by. Even with Dad, Jesse, and Amanda, sometimes he just felt so damned *lonely*.  
  
His eyes were burning, and his throat felt scratchy, but a man didn't cry over a thing like this. Not a man like Steve Sloan. So, he rubbed his hands over his face, squashed down the emotions he felt welling inside him, and went through the motions of tidying up his desk until time to go. Anyone who watched him closely would know it was an act, because they could see from the sorry state of his work area that tidying up was another of the things that a man like Steve Sloan simply didn't do.  
  
There were those nights when he just wanted to go home, have one, maybe two, beers too many, and then collapse into bed to dream about a nice, normal girl, who wasn't a psycho or a criminal, and who wasn't going to die on him. Tonight was looking like one of *those* nights.  
  
Maybe he'd call Jesse and see if he wanted to split a pizza and a couple of six packs. He knew from experience that Jesse would eat most of the pizza and he would drink most of the beer. If he could crash at Jesse's place, at least he wouldn't have to endure his father's sympathetic looks straight away. Then he could come in late tomorrow, even though it was his day off, and take care of some of that filing he always meant to finish, but never really seemed to get started.  
  
His father was always there for him, always, and Steve would never in a million lifetimes or a dozen languages be able to say how much he appreciated that unwavering support. But just for now, just for tonight, he wanted to get loaded and slip quietly into oblivion, and he found that hard to do under his father's worried gaze.  
  
He sighed and looked up to find Cheryl watching him intently.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Oh, nothing." She averted her eyes.  
  
"That wasn't a 'nothing' look," he argued. "That was a 'something' look. What?"  
  
She smiled enigmatically and said, "I know what you're thinking."  
  
"Oh, you do? How do you know I'm thinking anything at all?"  
  
Still smiling, she said, "Because you're predictable, Sloan."  
  
"Am I?"  
  
"Yes. And you're thinking tonight would probably be a good night to go get quietly drunk, probably at Jesse's, so you don't have to face Mark just yet. Then you'll come in here tomorrow, around ten, still a little hung over, and pretend to file your reports, tearing the head off anyone who dares to make eye contact, until the captain reminds you it's your day off and sends you home with orders not to come back until you've found a better attitude."  
  
Steve gave her a wan smile.  
  
"Am I really as bad as all that?"  
  
Nodding, she said, "Yep."  
  
He looked at the clock. Five minutes until the end of shift. They sat in silence until Cheryl decided to break it.  
  
"She wasn't worth it, Steve," she told him softly.  
  
"Now you tell me." His voice was bitter.  
  
"No, Steve, I mean it. She wasn't worth the price of a six pack, let alone all the other misery you're about to put yourself through."  
  
Cheryl genuinely wanted to help her friend and colleague. A man like Steve Sloan was a rare breed, with powerful emotions roiling beneath the calm surface. She knew he didn't trifle with other's feelings, and he trusted those he shared his heart with to show him same consideration. Sometimes, he was just too trusting. When he loved someone, he loved unquestioningly and unreservedly, and when he hurt, he hurt with unspeakable intensity.  
  
"Ok, Therapist Joe, what do recommend?"  
  
Cheryl recognized the flippant tone as a way to conceal the deep and genuine pain he was feeling. She knew him too well to be fooled, but she wouldn't call him on it. A man like Steve Sloan was proud and needed to preserve his dignity. Until right now, she hadn't realized she'd been waiting ages for just this sort of opportunity. She'd often wondered if a man like Steve could be persuaded to see anything in her. Looking up at the clock, she saw it was six pm. Shift was over. She seized the moment.  
  
Grasping her partner's hand, she tugged him gently out of his seat, saying, "Come on to my place. I'll fix you dinner. Then we can watch a movie and come up with a plan to help you find a decent woman."  
  
"You buying the beer," he asked with a fragile grin.  
  
"Nah. You don't need to get drunk over her, but I will split a bottle of wine with you."  
  
"Ok, I guess it will have to do."  
  
Her grip was warm and soft on his hand as she pulled him away from his desk. He decided not to resist. After all, a man like Steve Sloan didn't really *want* to get drunk if he had a better offer, and this was definitely a better offer. 


	2. The Trouble With Nice Girls, or, The Min...

Steve sat on Cheryl's couch watching TV. He could feel her sitting close to him, so close he could feel the warmth of her body though she wasn't quite touching him. He was feeling very mellow. After a dinner of salad, pasta, and wine with a light peach sorbet for dessert, Cheryl had relented and allowed him to have a beer, telling him he had the palate of a cretin. He had just shrugged and thanked her for the beer.  
  
They were watching the "Magic Lugie" episode of Seinfeld, though Steve wasn't sure why. He hadn't enjoyed it the first time around, and was frankly amazed that the stupid series had ever made it through the first season, let alone become the syndication sensation it had been for years. It didn't much matter, though, as these thoughts occupied only a small part of his mind. The rest of his attention was focused on larger matters.  
  
  
  
  
  
Cheryl sat on the couch watching Steve watch TV. She sat so close to him she could feel the warmth of his body beside her and smell the vestiges of his aftershave. It was a very sexy scent. She was glad she'd offered him a beer after dinner. She knew it wasn't enough to get him drunk. A guy as big as Steve would need considerably more than that to even get a buzz, but she knew he preferred beer to wine, and that small gesture of kindness on her part had lifted his spirits.  
  
She could clearly tell that he wasn't actually watching the "Magic Lugie" episode of Seinfeld, and that didn't really bother her at all. She had chosen the show, knowing Steve hated it, and hoping it would encourage him to talk to her. Unfortunately, while he wasn't watching the show, he wasn't talking to her, either. His eyes were focused somewhere on the empty space between him and the TV.  
  
Just as she was beginning to feel superfluous, he slapped the remote control, muting the program and said, "You wanna know what's the problem with nice girls?"  
  
"Not really," she said, reluctant to let him start woman bashing. She'd only seen his misogynistic side a couple of times, and only after some female had torn his heart out and stomped on it, but even so, she didn't like it. He'd always offered her some sort of apology later, too, and she knew it wasn't really part of his nature to blame all women for the actions of one, but she knew if she let him get on a roll now, it would ruin his mellow mood. It was so good to see him relaxed and almost happy after his recent romantic disaster. She didn't want anything to spoil it.  
  
"Nice girls," Steve said, "are taught to be coy, and men are taught that bad girls are very clear about their intentions."  
  
With a laugh, Cheryl asked, "What's wrong with being coy?"  
  
"Well, men are stupid."  
  
After a moment of silence, Cheryl said, "I hope you're not looking for an argument."  
  
Steve pursed his lips and said, "A little one might have been nice, but since you're not going to oblige, I'll just get straight to my point."  
  
"Please do."  
  
"Well, whenever I strike out, you and Jess and Dad and Amanda always tell me not to worry. There are plenty of fish in the sea, and you're sure there are lots of nice girls out there interested in a guy like me."  
  
"Well, Steve, the point must be on the top of your head, because I don't see it yet."  
  
"Patience, Grasshopper, let me explain. If bad girls are plain about their intentions, then it stands to reason that I always know when one of them is interested, right?"  
  
"I guess."  
  
"And by the same token, I know when one of them is *not* interested, right?"  
  
"Ok, I follow you so far."  
  
"Well, if nice girls are supposed to be coy, how do I know if a woman is really a nice girl being coy, or just a bad girl who isn't interested?"  
  
Cheryl eased the beer from his hand and, setting it on the coffee table, said, "I think you've had too much to drink."  
  
He picked up the beer again and said, "No, I haven't." Taking a swig, he put it back down.  
  
Cheryl picked up the remote, clicked the TV off completely, and said, "Then maybe you've had too much Seinfeld."  
  
"Yes, I have," Steve agreed, "but my question still stands."  
  
"And what exactly was the question?"  
  
"How can I tell when a nice girl is really interested but just being coy?"  
  
Cheryl shrugged and said, "I'm sorry. I can't divulge that secret. It's against the code."  
  
Shaking his head and laughing, Steve said, "Just once I wish a nice girl would give me a clear sign. If she would just let me know she was interested, maybe we could work something out."  
  
"But I thought you said that's what bad girls did."  
  
"Yeah, but if she did it right, a nice girl could still make her intentions clear without jeopardizing her status as a nice girl."  
  
Her interest peaked, Cheryl asked, "How would she do that?"  
  
"Well, she could kiss me, I guess. Not just kiss me back, but initiate the kiss."  
  
"What, you mean like one mind-blowing, suck-your-brain-out-through-your- tonsils passionate kiss, just to make it perfectly clear where you stood with her?" She moved closer.  
  
Steve shook his head, and felt the atmosphere warm as Cheryl slid closer to him on the couch. "Oh, no, not so early in the relationship. That's what a bad girl would do. With a nice girl, it would be more like a first-date- when-you're-fifteen-and-have-to-be-home-by-ten-and-you've-seen-her-to-the- door-and-her-father's-watching sort of good night kiss."  
  
Cheryl cupped his chin in her hand and turned his face toward her. Moving in, she asked quietly, "Like this?" She kissed him briefly, softly on the lips, and watched his reaction carefully. If he seemed the least bit troubled, she would back off.  
  
She was thrilled when he licked his lips and said, "Almost. She would close her eyes, too."  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve licked his lips as Cheryl broke away. He could faintly taste *her* on them. God, she was delicious. He wanted more.  
  
"Almost," he said. Then to encourage her, he added, "She would close her eyes, too."  
  
She moved close to him again, tangling his hair in her long graceful fingers to pull him forward, and as she closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his, he closed his eyes, too. This felt so good. When she finished, she pulled away only enough to ask, "Like that?"  
  
This time, when he licked his lips, she was still so close, he brushed against her lips, and the taste of her was stronger on his tongue. His heart was pounding in his chest, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse with emotion he hadn't realized was there.  
  
"Exactly like that."  
  
He felt her warm breath against his lips when she asked, "Then what?"  
  
"Then she'd say something nice to me. She'd say she liked me."  
  
Cheryl whispered. "I really do, like you, you know?"  
  
"I'm glad."  
  
Her right hand was teasing the folds and ridges of his left ear, making shivers and chills run down his neck, shoulder, and jaw.  
  
"What next?"  
  
"We-ell," he swallowed hard to find his voice. "I guess then I would suggest that we get to know each other a little better. After all, a nice girl wouldn't go any farther with a guy she barely knew."  
  
As her dark eyes stared into his, her left hand traced its way lightly down the side of his face to the cleft of his chin. It glided slowly down his throat, over his Adams apple, between his collarbones, along his sternum, over his abs, and came to rest at his waistband.  
  
"We already know each other pretty well, don't we?"  
  
Steve nodded. "Yesss," he hissed. "I guess we could skip over that part."  
  
"And then?" She moved to kneel on the couch, straddling his legs and leaning against him, their bodies touching everywhere.  
  
His heart was thundering like the hooves of a hundred stampeding horses. He couldn't believe this was happening. More importantly, he couldn't believe he never realized he wanted it so much.  
  
"Then, I guess it would be time for that mind-blowing, suck-your-brain-out- through-your-tonsils kiss."  
  
"Oh, this one?"  
  
Steve surrendered himself completely to the sensations. There would be other things to deal with later. Just for now, just for tonight, all that mattered was how good this felt.  
  
  
  
  
  
This was going better than Cheryl could have hoped. Steve wanted her. Even if it was just for now, just for tonight, he really wanted her. She moved to straddle his lap, and felt Steve's arousal against her. She didn't think he'd noticed it yet. She could feel his heart thudding in his chest.  
  
"And then," she asked.  
  
"Then, I guess it would be time for that mind-blowing, suck-your-brain-out- through-your-tonsils kiss."  
  
"Oh, this one?"  
  
She started the kiss softly, gently, not pushing him, but not letting him push her, either. She could just get the slightest taste of him, and she was surprised that he was sweet. She didn't even really taste the beer he'd been drinking. And there was something more there, something she wanted more of.  
  
She went deeper, teasing him. Bringing her tongue into play for only a moment at a time and then backing off, and closing her lips so he couldn't follow her retreat. She tortured him like this for a long while, grazing her tongue along his teeth and tickling the roof of his mouth before pulling away. He moaned, a desperate animal sound, as he tried frantically to follow her back to her lair, but she wanted to play a little more.  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve was certain he would die if she didn't let him have more soon. He tried to beg, but he couldn't bear to break this intimate contact just yet, and it came out and inarticulate moan. Finally, she relented and opened up to him, letting him explore. Her mouth was warm, moist, sweet, and acidic at the same time. The sensations were incredible, and when she shifted slightly against him, he thought he would fly apart.  
  
Suddenly he became aware of a throbbing ache in his groin, and he knew they had to go somewhere fast. It was an effort to stand, with her clutching at him the way she was, but when he got to his feet, she clung to him like a koala to a eucalyptus tree. He stood there for a moment, wondering what to do with his lovely burden when she broke away just long enough to point to a door and say, "Bed."  
  
He moved in that direction, neither knowing nor caring what came next, certain he would find it wonderful beyond description. A tiny part of his brain was asking if he could live with the consequences, but as Cheryl's tongue slipped into his mouth once again, he told that part of himself to shut up. 'Just for now,' he thought, 'just for tonight, I don't give a damn about tomorrow.' 


	3. Falling in Love

When she sensed they were standing beside her bed Cheryl reached out and turned on the bedside lamp. It had a 25-watt multicolor bulb in it, and it painted the room in soft shade of violet, pink, orange, and turquoise. She allowed her legs to untwine from around Steve's waist, and kept her fingers buried in his hair. As she had hoped, his seeking lips had followed hers as he lowered her gently to the floor to place her on her feet. When she was certain that he was as reluctant as she to break this searing contact, she slipped her hands out of his hair, down his neck and to his chest where she busied her digits with unbuttoning his shirt.  
  
Steve held her face gently between his big, meaty hands. Cheryl was amazed that the touch of hands so large could be so tender. Wantonly, she wondered what it would feel like to have his long, strong fingers deep inside her. She felt muscles clench, and an unbearable heat spread through her pelvic region. She felt as if she had suddenly burst into flames, and she knew that this kiss was only the beginning.  
  
She turned her head to kiss his palm, and his lips moved across her cheek and down her neck, still seeking, teasing, and pleasing. When she took his thumb into her mouth and sucked it, it tasted salty, and she realized Steve was sweating. Already, his hair was sticking to his face. She licked away a trail of perspiration that was running down his cheek and reveled in the sensation of his stubble on her tongue. He turned his face to meet her lips, and set his hands to removing her blouse.  
  
  
  
  
  
When Cheryl took his thumb into her mouth, Steve felt as if he was about to be burnt to a cinder. The heat within him was almost unbearable. He buried his face in her neck, and continued to devour her. Then he felt her lick a bead of sweat from his five o'clock shadow, and he turned to reclaim her mouth. He knew he wouldn't last much longer, and since she seemed to be of a like mind, he began undressing her.  
  
He felt Cheryl tug his shirt out of his jeans, and then she slid her hands under the t-shirt he wore beneath it. As her graceful fingers rippled up his abs to his chest to play with his nipples, he unhooked her bra and went to work on her belt and jeans. Her mouth was magic as she continued to kiss him, tasting and teasing his lips, face, and neck. The thumb sucking had been so erotic, Steve suddenly wondered what it would feel like to be back inside that wonderful, wet cavern, and the thought sent a shudder through him.  
  
Finally, he broke the kiss.  
  
"Can't wait," he breathed.  
  
"I know, baby," Cheryl panted, "I know." Then she peeled his shirt and t- shirt off him in one swift move, slipped off her blouse and bra, stripped away her pants, taking her knee-high hose with them. Steve watched in amazement as she dropped to her knees before him where she began undoing his belt and soon had his fly open.  
  
  
  
  
  
Cheryl slipped her fingers inside Steve's waistband and smoothly pulled his pants and shorts down together over his hips. She gasped when he popped out at her, and paused a moment to admire the view. As she watched, just inches from his magnificent organ, a glistening drop of fluid formed at the tip. She stretched out just the end of her tongue and licked it away, barely grazing the slit at the tip of his penis. She chuckled with satisfaction as Steve drew an inward hiss of breath, trembled, and dropped heavily to the mattress.  
  
She finished removing Steve's pants, socks, and shoes, and tossed them aside. Then she moved between Steve's knees and blew a warm, moist breath across his beautiful arousal. She heard a deep sigh, and looked up to see his head loll back, his eyes slide closed, and his mouth drop open. She traced her tongue around the crown of his penis once, barely skimming his heated flesh, and then suddenly, savagely took him deep into her throat.  
  
Sucking him hard, taunting him with her tongue, and lightly scraping her teeth along his length, she drew back slowly, and swallowed his full length again. Steve was sitting on his hands, and she could feel his thighs trembling beside her head. Ever the gentleman, he was doing his damnedest to resist the twin urges to force her down on him and thrust up into her. She loved him for it, for allowing her to do this for him, for allowing her to do this *to* him.  
  
She had never seen Steve Sloan give up control so completely. She was touched by the trust he was showing her, and she knew she needed to give something back.  
  
She drew away, and heard him sob, "Oh, God, Cheryl, *please* don't stop now," and she fell in love.  
  
"Shh," she hushed as she rose on her knees to face him, thrilled that he had used her name. "It's ok, baby."  
  
She brushed a tear from his cheek and kissed him deeply, the fingers of one hand playing in his thick, dark hair while she lightly traced intricate patterns on his back with the nails of the other hand. Her tactics had the desired effect, and when Steve realized she was not abandoning him, his panic quickly left him. She climbed to the bed beside him, lay on her back, and opened herself to him, saying, "Now, it's your turn."  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve panicked when Cheryl drew away. The tears surprised him when they came, and he knew he would die if he lost this moment.  
  
"Oh, God, Cheryl," he begged, "*please* don't stop now."  
  
"Shh," she hushed as she rose on her knees to face him. "It's ok, baby."  
  
Cheryl kissed him deeply and soothed him with the gentle play of her hands in his hair and on his back. When he realized she wasn't pulling away, Steve calmed down quickly. When she lay on the bed and offered herself to him, saying, "Now, it's your turn," he fell in love.  
  
He pivoted on the bed, and lay beside her, elbow bent, head propped on his hand, and he studied her a moment. He traced just his index finger back and forth across her forehead, and she shut her eyes. There was a thin sheen of perspiration all over her body, and it made her glow softly in the multicolor light of the bedside lamp. He drew his finger down her midline, stopping at the edge of the soft nest of curls between her legs. Teasing with his fingers, he said, "Now I know you're not a natural blond."  
  
She looked at him, her eyes filled not with humor, but with longing.  
  
Voice soft with tenderness, he whispered, "You are so beautiful."  
  
He raised his eyebrows as if to ask, 'Are you sure', and Cheryl simply nodded.  
  
Steve slipped one long finger gently between her outer lips and traced the outline of the inner folds of skin with a featherlight touch. She arched her back and shivered at his touch, pushing against him, grinding her hips, demanding more. He added a second finger, and probed gently deeper, until his thumb came to rest on her clitoris. He fluttered his fingers and slid them in and out of her wet slit, and he softly massaged her sensitive nub as he lowered his head to take a dusky nipple into his mouth.  
  
Cheryl moaned and used his hair to pull him closer. She writhed and squirmed beneath his touch, and suddenly, she reached out and gently grasped his throbbing sex.  
  
"Now, Steve," she pleaded, "or I'll die."  
  
Delighted to hear her use his name, he obliged, and quickly slipped into her.  
  
  
  
  
  
Cheryl writhed and moaned as those long, strong fingers fluttered deep inside her. When Steve started to suck on one of her nipples, she was ready to fly apart. She wrapped a hand softly around his cock and implored him, "Now, Steve, or I'll die."  
  
Her heart very nearly did stop when he when he moved over her and buried himself to the hilt inside her. Every muscle tensed as she fought to maintain control for just a few more moments. She was aware of her nails burying themselves in the flesh of Steve's shoulders, and she hoped she wasn't hurting him, but the sensations were just so intense that she couldn't help it.  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve felt Cheryl tense beneath him and around him. He felt her nails digging into his shoulders, and thrilled to the sensation. For a moment he froze, knowing that he wanted this to last longer, and knowing that if he moved right now, they would both disintegrate into a million pieces. Finally, when the most intense sensations ebbed, he began to thrust.  
  
  
  
  
  
Cheryl was barely aware of Steve's suspended animation. It was all she could do for the moment to hold herself together. Just as she felt herself stagger back from the edge, he began to thrust. She let her motions mirror his, rising to meet him and backing away. The pace accelerated quickly, and soon she felt she needed to explode. She bit her lip, struggling to hold on until Steve was ready, too.  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve felt Cheryl's motions copying his own, and he moved faster. Cheryl was bucking and writhing beneath him, eyes closed, biting her lip in concentration. The realization that she was waiting for him was all he needed. He felt his balls draw up in anticipation, and he grunted, asking her, "Now?"  
  
Her eyes flew open and she nodded, "Yessss."  
  
  
  
  
  
Much more of this, and Cheryl knew she'd have to give in or die. After what seemed an eternity, she heard a grunted question.  
  
"Now?"  
  
Looking into his eyes and nodding, she hissed out a "Yessss."  
  
  
  
  
  
They exploded together, and for a moment, they exchanged parts of their souls, and bits of their psyches. When all the pieces came back together, they were different, and they knew, whatever tomorrow might bring, just for now, just for tonight, they were each all the other would ever need. 


	4. Let Tomorrow Take Care of Itself

Steve collapsed bonelessly on top of Cheryl and struggled to catch his breath. *This is wrong*. He knew he should roll off her before she suffocated under his added weight, but he was completely spent. *This is so wrong*. His orgasm had been astonishingly intense, and, except for the small tremors that caused his entire body to momentarily spasm now and again, he was unable to move. *Oh, God, this is so very wrong*. He just needed a few moments to collect himself and put all the bits and pieces back where they belonged, then he would get his things and go.  
  
Steve felt a sickness in his stomach and a tightness in his chest. *This is so horribly, unspeakably wrong*. He never should have allowed this to happen. Cheryl was his partner, his *friend*, and he had used her. He was just beginning to catch his breath when she sighed and wrapped her arms around him, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. Ashamed, he buried his face in the graceful curve of her neck and began to cry.  
  
  
  
  
  
*This feels right*. Cheryl felt warm, and safer than ever before, as Steve's big body collapsed on top of her. *This feels so right*. His bulk protected her, and shielded her from the world. He was panting and occasionally trembling as small spasms continued to course through him. *Lord, but this feels so very right*. She thrilled with the knowledge that she had made him fly to pieces, and she wished that he could stay forever.  
  
A surge of joy welled up inside her. *This feels so wonderfully, unspeakably right*. Cheryl was elated that this had happened. Steve was her friend, her *partner*, and she was thankful that she could be here for him tonight. He was beginning to catch his breath, when she kissed his temple and wrapped her arms lightly around him to keep him from rolling off her too soon. He cuddled close and nuzzled the curve of her neck. She sighed. It felt so good to hold him in her arms.  
  
As her wits slowly regrouped, Cheryl realized with concern that while the sound of Steve's breathing had changed, it hadn't calmed. He was taking air in short little hiccupping gasps.  
  
"Steve?"  
  
When she said his name, he looked up, and the shame and panic she saw in his eyes broke her heart. What had she done to hurt him? He tried to pull away, but Cheryl hugged him close and, with some grunting and squirming, managed to roll them both over until they were lying on their sides, facing one another in her bed. Steve tried again to move away from her, but she pressed her body to his and tightened her embrace. What ever was wrong, she was not going to let him run from it. She was going to hold him tight and make him stay there and talk to her until they could put everything back to rights.  
  
"Talk to me, baby," she encouraged him. "Tell me what's wrong."  
  
"Don't call me that," he hissed.  
  
Hurt, she drew back a bit.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Steve?"  
  
When Cheryl said his name, he looked up, and loving concern he saw in her eyes tore him apart. He tried to pull away, before she could see just how ashamed and frightened he was, but she hugged him close and rolled them both over onto their sides, facing one another. Steve tried again to move away from her, but she pressed her body to his and tightened her embrace.  
  
"Talk to me, baby," she encouraged him. "Tell me what's wrong."  
  
"Don't call me that," he hissed.  
  
She pulled back a bit then, and the hurt he saw in her eyes broke his heart.  
  
"Oh, God, Cheryl," he forced his response out between sobs. "I am so…sorry." He bowed his head, trying to hide his disgrace, and rested his forehead against her chest. She wrapped her arms around his head and held him close, stroking his hair and cooing to him, soothing him.  
  
"Shh, Steve, it's ok. It's all right. Tell me what's got you so upset."  
  
He continued to sob, on the edge of hysteria, and told her, "I shouldn't have done this, but I wanted it so bad. I *needed* *you* so bad…I couldn't help it. I…used you, and I'm so, so sorry."  
  
She held him and rocked him, and let him cry it out. As comforting as her presence was, as good as it felt, every time her remembered it was *Cheryl* holding him, it broke his heart all over again. He only stopped crying when he was too exhausted to continue.  
  
  
  
  
  
"I…used you, and I'm so, so sorry."  
  
Cheryl wanted to tell him it was all right, that he could stop feeling guilty, that he didn't need to be ashamed. She had been a willing participant in their love making, and she was a big girl. She knew whatever it was between them, it was just for now, just for tonight. But Steve was so overwrought, she knew he would never hear her, so she held him and rocked him, and let him cry it out. Several times, he seemed to calm almost completely, but then, for some reason, he would begin to sob again. Finally, he was too exhausted to continue, and she knew she could talk to him.  
  
She slipped a finger under his chin and tipped his chin up, forcing him to look at her. He tried to avoid her gaze, but she put a stop to that quickly.  
  
"Look at me," she ordered.  
  
He met her gaze reluctantly.  
  
"Listen to me, Steve," she said softly. "You haven't done anything I didn't want you to, and you haven't taken anything I didn't want to give. I am not some teenybopper freshman cheerleader in love with the quarterback. I am a grown woman, and I know what I want. I wanted this. I *needed* this as much as you did."  
  
"But, Cheryl…"  
  
She hushed him with a kiss.  
  
"I love you, partner, and when you hurt, I hurt. I needed to make you stop hurting."  
  
"But tomorrow…"  
  
She stopped his words with another kiss.  
  
"Let tomorrow take care of itself. I know this could all be just a rebound thing, but, just for now, just for tonight, we can love each other, ok?"  
  
For a moment, she saw his lower lip tremble, and she was afraid he was about to cry again. Then he set his jaw firmly, and nodded.  
  
"Just for now, Cheryl, just for tonight."  
  
  
  
  
  
This time their lovemaking was slow and gentle. 


	5. Mourning

Steve sat on the edge of the bed in the darkness before dawn, naked from the waist up, hair still wet from the shower plastered to his head. He was putting on his shoes.  
  
Cheryl woke slowly, and the first thing she noticed was how *good* he smelled. She slid over and curled herself tightly around him.  
  
He looked down and caressed her cheek, she turned her head and kissed his palm. Then he leaned over and kissed her deeply.  
  
"You are so beautiful," he said as he broke the kiss.  
  
"Thanks. What time is it?"  
  
"Early," Steve said.  
  
"Want to give it another go?"  
  
She felt him stiffen beside her, and wished she hadn't said that.  
  
He dropped to his knees beside the bed, put one arm around her, and said, "I can't do that, Cheryl. I need you too much, and in too many ways, for us to get involved. I need to know you've got my back, that you'll pick me up when I fall, and carry me when I can't go on. When the job gets too intense, I need you for my sounding board, to listen to the things I can't even tell my dad. If we do this again, I won't be able to stop. The department will have to split us up, and I can't take that right now. I know that's selfish, but…"  
  
"It's ok, Steve. It's what I expected."  
  
"Thank you, Cheryl. It was wonderful, just for tonight." She could hear passion and tears mixed in equal parts in his voice.  
  
She smiled softly up at him as he crossed the room and put his shirt back on.  
  
"What now," she asked.  
  
"We put this away and treasure it, I guess." He moved to the window and opened the blinds slightly. "It's morning."  
  
"Maybe someday, Steve…"  
  
He shook his head. "Let's not live like we're waiting for 'someday.' You wouldn't let today ruin last night. Please don't let 'someday' use up all of your todays."  
  
She nodded her understanding, pulled the pillow toward her, and curling around it, she turned away from the light and from him.  
  
"Right, well," Steve said, feeling suddenly awkward. "Have a good weekend. I'll see you at the station on Monday."  
  
"See you Monday," Cheryl replied, without turning to look at him.  
  
He paused in the doorway of the bedroom and looked at her trembling back.  
  
"It was *not* just a rebound thing," he told her before softly shutting the door.  
  
Cheryl held on until she heard the entry door close. Then she let the sobs tear loose from her soul. 


	6. A note from the author

Dear readers,  
  
I hope you have enjoyed this story. It made me feel so good to write it. If you have been following my other work, you know how frustrating it has been for me from time to time. This one was easy, and very gratifying.  
  
When I finished chapter five, I thought, "That makes a lovely little story. It leaves open so many possibilities. People can finish it any way they want."  
  
I was finished, and I was happy with what I wrote.  
  
Then, being true to my nature as a Gemini, I thought, "Then what?"  
  
I came up with several possible endings.  
  
If, on the one hand, you are satisfied with dreaming up your own 'possibilities,' you may wish to stop reading now.  
  
If, on the other hand, you want resolution, go on to the next chapter. Of all the alternatives I came up with, I like this one the best.  
  
Thanks for reading. I hope you have enjoyed my story, wherever you stopped reading.  
  
Jo 


	7. Then What?

Steve sat at the counter in Bob's, stirring his soda with a straw. Jesse was behind the counter, filling the condiment jars. Steve had deliberately put off telling him for here and now. Monday afternoons were seldom busy, and he knew there was little chance that they would be interrupted.  
  
"Then what?"  
  
"She made me dinner. We talked a while. Then we made love."  
  
Steve was amazed that three simple sentences could sum up so much.  
  
"But all that was six years ago, Steve. Don't you think this is a little sudden?"  
  
As Steve looked up at him, Jesse suppressed a grin. He wasn't the only one who had been hoping for years that Steve and Cheryl would finally get it together.  
  
"Six years is *not* sudden, Jess. Yeah, she went on. I went on. Nothing worked for either of us, but we had each other there *every* day."  
  
"Then there was Ellen."  
  
Steve smiled sadly.  
  
"Then there was Ellen," he agreed. "That worked for a while, but she deserved better, and she and I both knew it."  
  
"Have you talked to Cheryl yet?"  
  
Steve grinned broadly and nodded…  
  
  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
"Congratulations, *Captain* Sloan."  
  
"Cheryl! Hey, thanks."  
  
"So, how does it feel to be chained to a desk?"  
  
"Believe it or not, I kind of like it."  
  
"I'm glad, Steve, you deserve it. It's about time."  
  
She got a distant look in her eye.  
  
"Cheryl?"  
  
"I miss you," she whispered.  
  
"I miss you, too," he said softly.  
  
"Remember that night…"  
  
"Every time I see you," he interrupted with a smile.  
  
"Me, too." A pause. "We're not in the same squad any more…"  
  
"I don't see you nearly enough." His smile was turning into a grin.  
  
"Me, either." Another pause. "Do you think maybe now would be a good time?"  
  
He came around his desk and took a seat beside her. Turning to face her, he said, "I don't want to date anymore, Cheryl."  
  
He was expecting her to be crestfallen. He was expecting to be able to surprise her when he asked the question he'd been dying to ask for ages, but she beat him to it.  
  
"Then marry me."  
  
His grin nearly split his face.  
  
  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
"*She* asked *you*." Jesse laughed aloud, and Steve just grinned.  
  
"And I said yes. Now, what do you say? Will you be my best man?"  
  
"Betcherlife!" 


End file.
